back toward health in spite of an outrageous number of invites to eat out. When I first started The Plan I refused to eat anywhere other than home. If you want to have no friends this works, otherwise, not. So...this time around I am working with the food presented to me, and then I go back to The Plan for the next meal. Since I am no longer interested in rapidly losing gobs of weight I think this strategy will work. Amazing what putting that scale in the closet has done for me. To let go of the daily weight check is like taking off a tight girdle. Ho, ho. I am eating in a healthy way to feel better physically, emotionally and mentally. If weight loss follows so be it. If not, then I guess I will make peace with the weight my body desires.
I am still cleaning out the freezer, fridge and pantry. Gad what a lot of off Plan stuff I have accumulated. Muffin mixes, pancake mix, stuffing mix, bread machine mixes, white flour, whole wheat flour, whole wheat pastry flour, rye flour, flat breads, tortillas (whole wheat and corn), honey wheat bread, cinnamon and orange rolls, pizza dough and frozen left over cake. See a pattern here? I apparently love the baked stuff. (I thought my major down fall was cheesecake and peanut M&M's. You learn something new every day.) I have also been acquiring the accoutrement of baking: raisins, craisins, currants, dried apricots, white sugar, brown sugar, powdered sugar, molasses, corn syrup, maple syrup, Hershey's syrup, vanilla, nuts of every vintage, butterscotch chips, chocolate chips and flaked coconut. To go on all those scones, muffins, biscuits and toast I purchased apple butter, marmalade, apricot preserves, raspberry preserves, honey and grape jelly (for Mark.) And this is just the sweet stuff. My salt obsession was met with olives, pickles, salsa, V-8 juice, Calmato juice, chips and microwave popcorn.
The church food pantry made a huge hall last Sunday.
I am having fun going back to being inventive with beans. (Hi Vickie) Rice and oatmeal and barley have also reappeared on my shelves. Mark is delighted with the increased amounts of meat I am serving. He dearly loves unadorned grilled meat and a potato for the evening meal. I am learning to make thick soups to pour over salad greens for our lunches. I made a jambalaya yesterday to die for. Today is split peas and ham. I FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE TURKEY SAUSAGE THAT DOES NOT GAG US. I need to get more creative with my bedtime snack. I have about exhausted the possibilities of fruit and yogurt. Any and all suggestions gladly welcomed.
My exercise is curtailed at the moment because I fell off the deck and messed up my shoulder. But this too will pass and I will enlist at Curves. All in all I feel like I have a new lease on life.
Take care of yourselves. Love Bea
P.S. I have a massage scheduled for next Tuesday.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
I Surrender
(With thanks to Cindy.)
I have been in relapse for almost two years now. I remember the day it happened.
A month or two after we moved up here we received an invitation from "home" for a "Going Away party." We had moved in such a rush there hadn't been time to have one. I did not want to go. Dreaded it in fact. I was not yet settled in here and going back to the place I loved and had to leave was more than I thought I could cope with. But, you know how it is, these were friends who were missing us and wanted to do something for us. I went anyway. I was right. I couldn't cope.
I read somewhere that our coping skills work until we hit a situation that is too strong for them, and then we revert to comfort seeking behavior. I did okay for the first couple of days. We stayed in a motel I was unfamiliar with so it did not seem like being home. I was shaky but still able to adhere to my food plan in spite of eating out and at friends' houses. The final day of the trip was the scheduled big blowout party. I ate appropriately to prepare for this challenge. As we got dressed for the party I looked in the mirror and thought, "Not bad, not bad at all." I weighed 179. On the way to the party I asked Mark if we could drive by our recently vacated house. We had been studiously avoiding going any where near it the whole time we had been there. He was dubious but I said I felt strong enough. BIG MISTAKE. After seeing the house the damn broke. Evey ounce of strength I had used for the move and relocation was used up. I broke. I sobbed all the way to the party. I cried during the party and all the way back up here. I started eating "off plan" at the party and I have been eating like that ever since.
I am a testament to losing weight slowly. It has taken me two years to re-gain 16 pounds. That is something. My body had really gotten used to using food as fuel and not as comfort. In the past two years I have tried all sort of things to get my motivation back. I tried to go back to the Kay Shepperd food plan, no dice. I tried Atkins, no dice. I tried Intuitive Eating, no dice. I read every book I could find about motivation, no dice. Nothing worked. I craved sugar and fat, and I have been eating it in ever increasing amounts. I couldn't stop. I hadn't yet hit bottom.
I was okay the first couple of days Mark was gone. I did my normal routine and was fine. But the third day something happened. I couldn't get out of bed. If it hadn't been for the dog I'd be there still. After Mollie forced me to move I showered and went to the grocery store. I bought everything I wanted to eat. And I mean everything. Then I went home, put on an old baggy sweatsuit, closed the drapes, turned off the phone, and began to eat. I did not shower or leave the house for three days. I see why depressed/addicted mothers abuse their children. I hated Mollie and the cats for needing me. I did only the bare minimum for them. The dog was the worst. She kept wanting attention. I hated her.
The day Mark was due home I got off the sofa and tried to hide my depression and binge. It was very heavy (no pun) sledding. The house was filthy and so was I. I cleaned at some of the mess and took a shower. I was so sick it took all I had to just get that done. I was way past self loathing and was numb when he finally arrived home. He was so tired he didn't notice. We spoke very little and went to bed. At least he did. I told him I had the flu and would need to sleep on the couch. I spent the better part of the night in the bathroom. Mark was very solicitous the next morning. I told him the house was so awful because I had been sick most of the time he was away. He was so sweet it make me feel worse. We both slept most of day. He made himself breakfast and lunch. I couldn't eat. Come dinner time we were both perkier and Mark suggested we go out to a fancy place and eat. I just stood there like I had been pole axed and then started to cry. The whole ugly story came out. Was another very long night.
...I put the scale in the closet. I cleaned out the kitchen. We went shopping and bought good food. I am re-reading, "From the First Bite." I got out my measuring cups and little scale. I am back on THE PLAN. I feel shaky and weak but oh so happy. At this point I don't care about weight loss. I just want to feel better and not be led around by my obsession with food. The only way I know to achieve this is to turn myself and my food over to God and the food plan. I am grateful to God for giving me His strength. I am at peace, finally.
When I feel stronger I will analyze WHAT HAPPENED but for now I am just grateful for the miracle.
Take care of yourselves. Love Bea
I have been in relapse for almost two years now. I remember the day it happened.
A month or two after we moved up here we received an invitation from "home" for a "Going Away party." We had moved in such a rush there hadn't been time to have one. I did not want to go. Dreaded it in fact. I was not yet settled in here and going back to the place I loved and had to leave was more than I thought I could cope with. But, you know how it is, these were friends who were missing us and wanted to do something for us. I went anyway. I was right. I couldn't cope.
I read somewhere that our coping skills work until we hit a situation that is too strong for them, and then we revert to comfort seeking behavior. I did okay for the first couple of days. We stayed in a motel I was unfamiliar with so it did not seem like being home. I was shaky but still able to adhere to my food plan in spite of eating out and at friends' houses. The final day of the trip was the scheduled big blowout party. I ate appropriately to prepare for this challenge. As we got dressed for the party I looked in the mirror and thought, "Not bad, not bad at all." I weighed 179. On the way to the party I asked Mark if we could drive by our recently vacated house. We had been studiously avoiding going any where near it the whole time we had been there. He was dubious but I said I felt strong enough. BIG MISTAKE. After seeing the house the damn broke. Evey ounce of strength I had used for the move and relocation was used up. I broke. I sobbed all the way to the party. I cried during the party and all the way back up here. I started eating "off plan" at the party and I have been eating like that ever since.
I am a testament to losing weight slowly. It has taken me two years to re-gain 16 pounds. That is something. My body had really gotten used to using food as fuel and not as comfort. In the past two years I have tried all sort of things to get my motivation back. I tried to go back to the Kay Shepperd food plan, no dice. I tried Atkins, no dice. I tried Intuitive Eating, no dice. I read every book I could find about motivation, no dice. Nothing worked. I craved sugar and fat, and I have been eating it in ever increasing amounts. I couldn't stop. I hadn't yet hit bottom.
I was okay the first couple of days Mark was gone. I did my normal routine and was fine. But the third day something happened. I couldn't get out of bed. If it hadn't been for the dog I'd be there still. After Mollie forced me to move I showered and went to the grocery store. I bought everything I wanted to eat. And I mean everything. Then I went home, put on an old baggy sweatsuit, closed the drapes, turned off the phone, and began to eat. I did not shower or leave the house for three days. I see why depressed/addicted mothers abuse their children. I hated Mollie and the cats for needing me. I did only the bare minimum for them. The dog was the worst. She kept wanting attention. I hated her.
The day Mark was due home I got off the sofa and tried to hide my depression and binge. It was very heavy (no pun) sledding. The house was filthy and so was I. I cleaned at some of the mess and took a shower. I was so sick it took all I had to just get that done. I was way past self loathing and was numb when he finally arrived home. He was so tired he didn't notice. We spoke very little and went to bed. At least he did. I told him I had the flu and would need to sleep on the couch. I spent the better part of the night in the bathroom. Mark was very solicitous the next morning. I told him the house was so awful because I had been sick most of the time he was away. He was so sweet it make me feel worse. We both slept most of day. He made himself breakfast and lunch. I couldn't eat. Come dinner time we were both perkier and Mark suggested we go out to a fancy place and eat. I just stood there like I had been pole axed and then started to cry. The whole ugly story came out. Was another very long night.
...I put the scale in the closet. I cleaned out the kitchen. We went shopping and bought good food. I am re-reading, "From the First Bite." I got out my measuring cups and little scale. I am back on THE PLAN. I feel shaky and weak but oh so happy. At this point I don't care about weight loss. I just want to feel better and not be led around by my obsession with food. The only way I know to achieve this is to turn myself and my food over to God and the food plan. I am grateful to God for giving me His strength. I am at peace, finally.
When I feel stronger I will analyze WHAT HAPPENED but for now I am just grateful for the miracle.
Take care of yourselves. Love Bea
Friday, August 29, 2008
Phooey
I have half an acre of brownish grass to mow, the house is dirty, the dog is bored, the washer is leaking, I forgot choir practise AND...my husband is calling me every evening with tales of fun adventures. Last eve he toured an old sailing ship on Fisherman's Wharf and took a boat tour around Alcatraz Island. The evening before that he rode up and down Nob Hill on a cable car. Tonight he is going to Chinatown. I hate him.
He is gone all this week to San Francisco to a death penalty seminar. He is having a blast. I hate him. I wanted to go but finances are tight and I HAVE GAINED WEIGHT. Both things stopped me from going. I hate him.
Our extra finances this summer have gone to home repairs and visits to Mentor Mary and Friends in hospital. I am happy we did all of these things and, I still resent being broke and stuck in Podunk WY while my husband is wining and dining in the City by the Bay.
Okay now down to cases. I could have put my ticket and meals and dog sitter on a credit card. Would not have been real smart but was sure doable. Truth? I didn't go because I felt and feel fat. Real fat. When they weighed me at Curves I weighed 196. That is 16 pounds I have re-gained. My clothes don't fit. I could not face going to the land of skinny people looking and feeling like a failed whale. Phooey.
Today I want to lie down and just give up. I want to let a tide of fat wash over and drown me. Why fight the inevitable? For multitudinous reasons I was meant to be fat and that is all there is to it. I am jousting at windmills in the attempt to be thin. I give in, give up, give over. I am a fat nobody going nowhere.
Goodbye cruel world.
Bea.
(Why am I laughing like a demented woman?)
He is gone all this week to San Francisco to a death penalty seminar. He is having a blast. I hate him. I wanted to go but finances are tight and I HAVE GAINED WEIGHT. Both things stopped me from going. I hate him.
Our extra finances this summer have gone to home repairs and visits to Mentor Mary and Friends in hospital. I am happy we did all of these things and, I still resent being broke and stuck in Podunk WY while my husband is wining and dining in the City by the Bay.
Okay now down to cases. I could have put my ticket and meals and dog sitter on a credit card. Would not have been real smart but was sure doable. Truth? I didn't go because I felt and feel fat. Real fat. When they weighed me at Curves I weighed 196. That is 16 pounds I have re-gained. My clothes don't fit. I could not face going to the land of skinny people looking and feeling like a failed whale. Phooey.
Today I want to lie down and just give up. I want to let a tide of fat wash over and drown me. Why fight the inevitable? For multitudinous reasons I was meant to be fat and that is all there is to it. I am jousting at windmills in the attempt to be thin. I give in, give up, give over. I am a fat nobody going nowhere.
Goodbye cruel world.
Bea.
(Why am I laughing like a demented woman?)
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Help Found
Mentor Mary of course. I read yesterday's blog to her. There was a long silence. Then she said, " Honey I think you are being lied to." To make a long spiritual/theological conversation short I'll just give you the gist of it. She thinks I am being lied to by Satan, Devil, spirit of evil that inhabits this world. I concur.
I bought hook, line and sinker into the evil idea that I have no choices. This is a blatant lie. I have choices in almost every area of my life. I can even choose how I feel. I also bought into the idea that abuse damaged me for life. Not so. I can and have moved on. I do not have to be pushed around by memories of my past. I can defuse them by speaking them out loud and then I can let them go.
My faith is pretty strong in spite of periodic bouts of unbelief and anger. Guess that makes me about normal. When I take off the blinders of victim hood I can see God's loving hand in my life. I am filled with gratitude.
And now for something completely different. I had a job interview at Curves today. They offered me a job as a coach, but the hours were lousy so I didn't take it. This all happened so fast I didn't have time to get my resume together. Instead I took an old photo to show them. Did the trick. I may have gained 13lbs. but I am still thinner than I was at 250+. Made me feel good that they wanted me. I am planning on rejoining come September and a paycheck.
That's all for now. Bea.
I bought hook, line and sinker into the evil idea that I have no choices. This is a blatant lie. I have choices in almost every area of my life. I can even choose how I feel. I also bought into the idea that abuse damaged me for life. Not so. I can and have moved on. I do not have to be pushed around by memories of my past. I can defuse them by speaking them out loud and then I can let them go.
My faith is pretty strong in spite of periodic bouts of unbelief and anger. Guess that makes me about normal. When I take off the blinders of victim hood I can see God's loving hand in my life. I am filled with gratitude.
And now for something completely different. I had a job interview at Curves today. They offered me a job as a coach, but the hours were lousy so I didn't take it. This all happened so fast I didn't have time to get my resume together. Instead I took an old photo to show them. Did the trick. I may have gained 13lbs. but I am still thinner than I was at 250+. Made me feel good that they wanted me. I am planning on rejoining come September and a paycheck.
That's all for now. Bea.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Power Full or Pity Full?
"Beggars can't be choosers," my family motto. "You can be pitiful or powerful. You can't be both." My desired motto. There is a war going on inside me.
I am not a victim. I am not a beggar. I am a powerful chooser. Do you think if I say this often enough it could come true?
In the comments section of the last post Vickie recommended a self defense class. I thought about it. My thoughts were, "What would be the point in that? If attacked I could/would never win and the attack would then be just that much worse." Gad. This kind of "stinking thinking" has poisoned my whole life. I know its origins, AND I WANT TO GET RID OF IT.
I was beaten, defiled and broken as a child. Some days I am amazed I can walk and chew gum at the same time. The abuse has colored my whole world. It is the reason I believe I can't fight back and WIN against attackers ... or cheesecake. It teaches you not to fight back. I don't want to be cracked. I want to be whole. I want to fight back. I gotta get some help.
I am born of a long line of victims. People who let life grind them to a pulp and never fought back. I was adopted by an amazing woman who was victimized but FOUGHT BACK with every ounce of her strength. She taught me how to fight back. Her main teaching was to give your fight to God and let him assist in the battle. I have been trying to do this for thirty years but...I am scared to death of God. He seems mean and unreliable. (God forgive me.)
All that business about having little children come unto Him, juxtaposed with turning the other cheek and giving your coat away just confuses me. God my loving protector who demands I be abused in the name of Christianity? I guess I believe no one can protect me. God won't and I can't. See, I told you I need help, spiritual and psychological. This round robin victim thinking is entrenched in me and I know it is WRONG.
But...I have enjoyed the many perks of victim hood. I get to be special. Not as much is expected of me. (In fact nothing. I was always pointed out as a miracle child for being smart enough to cross the road without being run over.) I get to evade responsibility. I get to believe I have no control over what happens to me. I get to hate myself. I get to contemplate suicide (without having any real intention of doing it.) I get to be fat.
I want to get some help to accept God's love, figure out how to shoulder the burden of my past, determine how and when to fight back, and to learn to recognize I have choices in life.
That's all. That's enough. Bea.
I am not a victim. I am not a beggar. I am a powerful chooser. Do you think if I say this often enough it could come true?
In the comments section of the last post Vickie recommended a self defense class. I thought about it. My thoughts were, "What would be the point in that? If attacked I could/would never win and the attack would then be just that much worse." Gad. This kind of "stinking thinking" has poisoned my whole life. I know its origins, AND I WANT TO GET RID OF IT.
I was beaten, defiled and broken as a child. Some days I am amazed I can walk and chew gum at the same time. The abuse has colored my whole world. It is the reason I believe I can't fight back and WIN against attackers ... or cheesecake. It teaches you not to fight back. I don't want to be cracked. I want to be whole. I want to fight back. I gotta get some help.
I am born of a long line of victims. People who let life grind them to a pulp and never fought back. I was adopted by an amazing woman who was victimized but FOUGHT BACK with every ounce of her strength. She taught me how to fight back. Her main teaching was to give your fight to God and let him assist in the battle. I have been trying to do this for thirty years but...I am scared to death of God. He seems mean and unreliable. (God forgive me.)
All that business about having little children come unto Him, juxtaposed with turning the other cheek and giving your coat away just confuses me. God my loving protector who demands I be abused in the name of Christianity? I guess I believe no one can protect me. God won't and I can't. See, I told you I need help, spiritual and psychological. This round robin victim thinking is entrenched in me and I know it is WRONG.
But...I have enjoyed the many perks of victim hood. I get to be special. Not as much is expected of me. (In fact nothing. I was always pointed out as a miracle child for being smart enough to cross the road without being run over.) I get to evade responsibility. I get to believe I have no control over what happens to me. I get to hate myself. I get to contemplate suicide (without having any real intention of doing it.) I get to be fat.
I want to get some help to accept God's love, figure out how to shoulder the burden of my past, determine how and when to fight back, and to learn to recognize I have choices in life.
That's all. That's enough. Bea.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Self Centered
Thanks for all the comments. I am still confused about my reaction to what felt like way too much attention from men. I am sure my anxiety has to do with the sexual abuse and its long term implications in my life.
And now for the fat implications. When I first lost weight I was delighted with the renewed male interest. Not so a year later. Now it just pisses me off. And it may also be stopping further weight loss. I hate feeling exposed and vulnerable. Somewhere along the line I lost the delight with being thinner and found the fear of being thinner. I am comfortable being fat. I know who I am fat. Thinner I was lost. (I know this is not a new story for any of you.) I fear the power thin gives a woman. I am not used to feeling powerful and the feeling unnerves me.
So much for my great insight.
We got the garage painted. Yeah. Mark has been gone for the past three days and I have spent them all mowing the lawn. Phooey. Two hours a day with an electric mower is all I am good for. I still have two more sections to do. I am too uninterested in gardening for this much lawn.
Much thinking to do about my not really wanting to be thinner. Good thing I have so much lawn to mow, huh?
Take care. Love Bea
And now for the fat implications. When I first lost weight I was delighted with the renewed male interest. Not so a year later. Now it just pisses me off. And it may also be stopping further weight loss. I hate feeling exposed and vulnerable. Somewhere along the line I lost the delight with being thinner and found the fear of being thinner. I am comfortable being fat. I know who I am fat. Thinner I was lost. (I know this is not a new story for any of you.) I fear the power thin gives a woman. I am not used to feeling powerful and the feeling unnerves me.
So much for my great insight.
We got the garage painted. Yeah. Mark has been gone for the past three days and I have spent them all mowing the lawn. Phooey. Two hours a day with an electric mower is all I am good for. I still have two more sections to do. I am too uninterested in gardening for this much lawn.
Much thinking to do about my not really wanting to be thinner. Good thing I have so much lawn to mow, huh?
Take care. Love Bea
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Fair of Face
We took last weekend off. We went to Shakespeare in the Park one night and to a dinner/dance the next. The dog loved Macbeth. She barked each time the witches came on stage. Bea did not love the dinner/dance.
For starters I had to go alone. Mark is gearing up for a huge trial and had to unexpectedly be out of town to interview some witnesses. Friends offered to save me a spot at the dinner, so I thought no worries, right? Wrong. I have lost a couple of pounds and I have a tan. My brownish hair is streaked and more blond than usual. And I look good in pastel blue. I wore a boat neck light weight blue cropped top and capris. I even painted my toenails and wore wedgie sandals. I wore dangley earrings and couple of gold bracelets. I looked classy and attractive. Even I could see it.
I knew I was in trouble when I walked in and a friend's husband said "Wow" and got up to give me his chair. Then another friend's husband winked at me and said, "You were sure worth waiting for." Good grief. Both wives looked at me like I was some wanton hussy, and the atmosphere turned abruptly frosty. Things went down hill from there. Drinks began mysteriously appearing in front of me. One husband spent the majority of the evening staring at my boobs, while the other one sat next to me and rubbed my elbow. I kept trying to engage the wives in conversation. I made deprecating remarks about myself. I refused the alcohol and drank coke. I did not dance with anyone. Nothing helped. I felt like and exposed flower with pollinators on every side. I'm not sure when I have felt this uncomfortable. I left early.
What the heck happened?
I was there alone. I had forgotten the protection from mashers a husband offers. I was relaxed and happy with myself. Confidence attracts men, and women for that matter. I need to remember this when I feel fat and ugly. I took time with my grooming. For a change I was more than just missionary clean. Amazing what a little perfume and fingernail polish can do. And finally, I had lost a few pounds as a result of eating better. I felt healthy. It makes all the difference.
Now, I have to figure out why I felt sooooo "bad" as a result of all this unwanted attention. I used enjoy attracting men. Not anymore. I felt unclean. And guilty. And I didn't do anything. I was friendly and acted like I always act around these men. I was covered from clavicle to knee in a modest outfit. I left early. And still I felt and feel guilty. And exposed.
If any of you have thoughts about my experience I'd sure be glad to hear them.
Take care, Love Bea.
For starters I had to go alone. Mark is gearing up for a huge trial and had to unexpectedly be out of town to interview some witnesses. Friends offered to save me a spot at the dinner, so I thought no worries, right? Wrong. I have lost a couple of pounds and I have a tan. My brownish hair is streaked and more blond than usual. And I look good in pastel blue. I wore a boat neck light weight blue cropped top and capris. I even painted my toenails and wore wedgie sandals. I wore dangley earrings and couple of gold bracelets. I looked classy and attractive. Even I could see it.
I knew I was in trouble when I walked in and a friend's husband said "Wow" and got up to give me his chair. Then another friend's husband winked at me and said, "You were sure worth waiting for." Good grief. Both wives looked at me like I was some wanton hussy, and the atmosphere turned abruptly frosty. Things went down hill from there. Drinks began mysteriously appearing in front of me. One husband spent the majority of the evening staring at my boobs, while the other one sat next to me and rubbed my elbow. I kept trying to engage the wives in conversation. I made deprecating remarks about myself. I refused the alcohol and drank coke. I did not dance with anyone. Nothing helped. I felt like and exposed flower with pollinators on every side. I'm not sure when I have felt this uncomfortable. I left early.
What the heck happened?
I was there alone. I had forgotten the protection from mashers a husband offers. I was relaxed and happy with myself. Confidence attracts men, and women for that matter. I need to remember this when I feel fat and ugly. I took time with my grooming. For a change I was more than just missionary clean. Amazing what a little perfume and fingernail polish can do. And finally, I had lost a few pounds as a result of eating better. I felt healthy. It makes all the difference.
Now, I have to figure out why I felt sooooo "bad" as a result of all this unwanted attention. I used enjoy attracting men. Not anymore. I felt unclean. And guilty. And I didn't do anything. I was friendly and acted like I always act around these men. I was covered from clavicle to knee in a modest outfit. I left early. And still I felt and feel guilty. And exposed.
If any of you have thoughts about my experience I'd sure be glad to hear them.
Take care, Love Bea.
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